(no subject)
Title: untitled
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Serizawa Naoto (Maou)/Ariake Koichi (Ryuusei no Kizuna)
Word Count: 1829
Notes: Um. I wrote this at work the other day, because the shop was that dead. There isn't any greater meaning. It's quick and rough, typed pretty much exactly as I wrote it out. gimmick_game has kindly read it over for me.
Serizawa Naoto sighed, following behind his boss Nakanishi Hiromichi and his boss’s old friend and former partner Kashiwabara Yasutaka as they made their way to some curry restaurant that Naoto had never heard of. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but he’d been not-so-gently pushed along by his boss. The two older men had started discussing old cases they’d worked on in their youth almost immediately as they’d left the station - Naoto wished fervently that Takatsuka and Kurata hadn’t been busy enough to warrant getting out of the odd reunion.
Naoto wasn’t really sure why he’d been invited anyway. Curry wasn’t a particular favorite food of his and he certainly wasn’t much interested in old work stories of the glory days of his boss or Kashiwabara-san. He was sure he’d be forgotten before they’d even gotten their orders. Still, he climbed the steps up to the restaurant dutifully after them.
The curry restaurant was small and plain but for garish yellow painted walls. All the seating was laid out at counters - the longest of which blocked off the customer seating from the open cooking area (given that it was largely made up of two huge vats on a burner, Naoto hesitated to call it a kitchen). There was only one person working; a young man with perpetual bed head who appeared to be close to Naoto’s own age.
The young man glanced over for a moment as they entered and for a second Naoto’s heart stopped. Kumada Masayoshi couldn’t work at a curry restaurant!
Kashiwabara stepped up to the counter first, waving to the young man. “Yo, Koichi.”
This time the Koichi boy looked over at them and nodded a greeting - Naoto’s heart started again. Definitely not Kumada Masayoshi. Naoto slid onto a stool next to Nakanishi-san, the farthest away from Koichi, and tried not to be too obvious that he was still studying him. This Koichi looked familiar in more ways than one. It wasn’t just his face or hair that was similar to Kumada’s; there was something else that Naoto couldn’t put his finger on.
“Curry rice, sweet,” Kashiwabara said. He leaned forward onto the counter space. “How are Taisuke-kun and Shiizuna-chan?”
“I haven’t seen them,” the boy answered. He turned to Nakanishi expectantly.
“The same order,” Nakanishi murmured.
Naoto looked down at the menu, hoping he’d be able to get something other than curry. The boy apparently took that as his sign not to bother with him yet - by the sounds of it he turned to the vats on the burner. Naoto risked a glance up at Koichi’s back; Koichi plated rice onto the two plates and ladled curry over it. He set the plates down in front of the two officers.
“Hagimura-san isn’t coming?”
“He’s busy tonight,” Kashiwabara murmured. He pulled out a small piece of chocolate and began scraping it over his curry. “It’s just Nakanishi and Serizawa-kun tonight.”
Koichi turned to look at Naoto directly for the first time. Naoto tried not to gawk. It was absolutely uncanny how much this guy looked like Kumada’s son. Nakanishi nudged Naoto.
“Aren’t you going to order?”
Naoto stuttered, “A-ah. Right, sorry. Um. Hayashi rice, please.”
Koichi’s lips thinned and suddenly Naoto knew why he looked so familiar.
“Sorry,” said Koichi, “We’re out.”
------
Naoto sighed to himself. This was the third night since Kashiwabara and Nakanishi had forced him to join them for dinner that he’d returned to the site of the restaurant after closing to stand on the street and wonder if Koichi was working.
He shook his head, annoyed at himself, and sucked in a lung-full of smoke. What was he doing here? He’d never bring himself to go inside and the curry hadn’t been so good that he could justify coming back for it. He was only taking up time that he should have been spending on his case. They still couldn’t get anything useful from Kumada’s assailant and they weren’t going to be able to hold onto him much longer. Naruse Ryo was too good a lawyer for that.
Naoto turned to go.
“You’re not coming in?”
Naoto jerked back around, flushing guiltily. Koichi stood in the doorway of the darkened restaurant, looking down at him curiously and yet his face seemed somehow blank. Naoto was reminded strongly of Kumada Masayoshi once again.
“Sorry?” Naoto asked, feeling foolish for being caught like this.
“You’ve been standing down there three nights in a row now. Don’t you want to come in?”
Naoto attempted to smile. “You’re closed, so...”
“But you’ve been staying there anyway.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Naoto said, and hated that it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Koichi shrugged. “Are you coming in, or not?”
Naoto’s feet were stamping out the butt of his cigarette and carrying him up the steps before Naoto realized what they were doing. Koichi turned on the lights wordlessly and retreated behind the counter while Naoto took a seat - where Kashiwabara had sat not long ago. He looked around the cooking area aimlessly while Koichi looked down at his hands as he wiped down the stove.
Neither spoke.
“Beer?” Koichi suddenly asked.
Naoto jumped. “Eh?”
“Do you want a beer?” the young man repeated dutifully.
“Oh. Uh. S-sure.”
Koichi went back to the refrigerator and removed a bottle, popping the cap and leaving it on the counter in front of Naoto. He’d had to lean over to set it down neatly and, in spite of himself, Naoto’s eyes traced the line of his neck and shoulder. Koichi moved away again and Naoto took a long sip.
“... Thanks.”
Koichi shrugged, which Naoto assumed was his version of ‘you’re welcome’. The young police officer shifted. Having Koichi serve and stare at him was more intimidating than having the two of them sitting in silence and not looking at each other. Naoto took a small gulp this time.
“Why do you keep coming back?”
Naoto blinked and looked down, contemplating his fingers wrapped around the bottle. “Hayashi rice.”
Koichi rolled his eyes and let his head fall forward. “Please no. One Togami is all I need...” he muttered plaintively.
“Not to get it,” Naoto said quickly. He didn’t know what Togami Koichi was talking about, but he didn’t want to be lumped into such a category that warranted that voice. “I just... I haven’t gotten your face out of my mind.”
“My face?” Koichi blinked and his eyes crossed as though trying to see himself.
Naoto blushed and took another small gulp of beer. “When I asked for the hayashi rice, your face went all sad and sort of pitiful and I felt really bad and I thought maybe I’d hurt your feelings or something and I wanted to get that face out of my mind...”
Though Naoto knew his cheeks were flaming red, Koichi just continued to look at him steadily. The young police officer finished his beer quickly. He started to reach for his wallet.
“Sorry, but, this is my face,” Koichi said.
Naoto swallowed and left quickly.
------
He managed to stay away for two nights. Koichi was waiting for him on the porch of George Clooney when Naoto arrived after closing. The slight boy’s eyes were steady, if not warm, as they regarded him.
Naoto scuffed his foot against the pavement. “Still out of Hayashi rice?”
Koichi smiled thinly. “I might trade you for a smoke.”
The police officer jumped, his hand going to his shirt pocket. “I didn’t...”
“You didn’t ask. The roof has a nice view.”
It was such a non sequitur that Naoto almost didn’t realize Koichi wasn’t talking about smoking anymore. He still walked up the porch steps and followed the young chef through the dark restaurant and up some stairs - Koichi really wasn’t going to have them stay, apparently - in silence.
A blanket had been laid out on the roof, too far in the middle of it to really see the view of the city offered. This didn’t bother Koichi in the least - he laid down on the blanket and looked up at the night sky. After a second Naoto realized he was meant to join Koichi, and slowly did so. As they spent much of their time, they lay in silence, looking up at the stars. Naoto lost track of the minutes quickly.
Then Koichi’s voice washed over him, soft and tired. “My parents used to run a restaurant in Yokosuka. My father was the chef. He made the best hayashi rice - it was a recipe passed down from 100 years. I was going to take over when I got old enough.”
“What happened?”
“They were killed. He and my mother. They were killed while Shiizuna and Taisuke and I watched the Leonid meteor shower.”
Naoto’s heart clenched.
“I still went to school to become a chef. But all I could get was this place.”
Naoto frowned a little. “They never - ?”
“No. And the statute of limitations is up in a few months,” Koichi said softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not on the case.”
Naoto was silent, thinking about the case he was on. The case that seemed insolvable - how did you track a tarot card in an unmarked red envelope? He turned his head to study Koichi and found that the other boy was already staring at him. His eyes glittered in the faint light, peering out darkly from under his messy fall of black hair.
Naoto didn’t know what possessed him. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The angle was awkward and there was next to no pressure behind it because they were laying too far away from each other. Nonetheless Koichi’s tongue came out and moved softly over Naoto’s bottom lip. The young police officer felt like his whole chest suddenly collapsed in on itself - he couldn’t help but think that Koichi could taste the truth on his lips.
Naoto pulled away with a jerk and sat up, staring at nothing, pulling his knees close to his chest.
Koichi sat up slowly - his face appeared at the edge of Naoto’s peripheral vision. “You’ve killed someone.”
The police officer froze. He couldn’t move. Red envelopes danced before his eyes. His heart raced.
“H-how did you know that?” he stuttered.
“You just told me,” Koichi said quietly. “You pulled away from the victim’s survivor because you felt guilty.”
Naoto tried to catch his breath, but it wouldn’t come. Surely this man wasn’t the sort... he’d had nothing to do with that poor Manaka kid... Koichi’s hand closed around his wrist. His touch was gentle.
“Serizawa-san?”
All at once Naoto’s breath came back and his heart slowed. He looked at Koichi slowly - the other man looked back with understanding eyes.
“For what it’s worth, you’re not that person.”
This time it was Koichi who left, standing and walking from the roof without looking back. Naoto watched him leave. Then he laid back on the blanket and looked back at the sky.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Serizawa Naoto (Maou)/Ariake Koichi (Ryuusei no Kizuna)
Word Count: 1829
Notes: Um. I wrote this at work the other day, because the shop was that dead. There isn't any greater meaning. It's quick and rough, typed pretty much exactly as I wrote it out. gimmick_game has kindly read it over for me.
Serizawa Naoto sighed, following behind his boss Nakanishi Hiromichi and his boss’s old friend and former partner Kashiwabara Yasutaka as they made their way to some curry restaurant that Naoto had never heard of. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but he’d been not-so-gently pushed along by his boss. The two older men had started discussing old cases they’d worked on in their youth almost immediately as they’d left the station - Naoto wished fervently that Takatsuka and Kurata hadn’t been busy enough to warrant getting out of the odd reunion.
Naoto wasn’t really sure why he’d been invited anyway. Curry wasn’t a particular favorite food of his and he certainly wasn’t much interested in old work stories of the glory days of his boss or Kashiwabara-san. He was sure he’d be forgotten before they’d even gotten their orders. Still, he climbed the steps up to the restaurant dutifully after them.
The curry restaurant was small and plain but for garish yellow painted walls. All the seating was laid out at counters - the longest of which blocked off the customer seating from the open cooking area (given that it was largely made up of two huge vats on a burner, Naoto hesitated to call it a kitchen). There was only one person working; a young man with perpetual bed head who appeared to be close to Naoto’s own age.
The young man glanced over for a moment as they entered and for a second Naoto’s heart stopped. Kumada Masayoshi couldn’t work at a curry restaurant!
Kashiwabara stepped up to the counter first, waving to the young man. “Yo, Koichi.”
This time the Koichi boy looked over at them and nodded a greeting - Naoto’s heart started again. Definitely not Kumada Masayoshi. Naoto slid onto a stool next to Nakanishi-san, the farthest away from Koichi, and tried not to be too obvious that he was still studying him. This Koichi looked familiar in more ways than one. It wasn’t just his face or hair that was similar to Kumada’s; there was something else that Naoto couldn’t put his finger on.
“Curry rice, sweet,” Kashiwabara said. He leaned forward onto the counter space. “How are Taisuke-kun and Shiizuna-chan?”
“I haven’t seen them,” the boy answered. He turned to Nakanishi expectantly.
“The same order,” Nakanishi murmured.
Naoto looked down at the menu, hoping he’d be able to get something other than curry. The boy apparently took that as his sign not to bother with him yet - by the sounds of it he turned to the vats on the burner. Naoto risked a glance up at Koichi’s back; Koichi plated rice onto the two plates and ladled curry over it. He set the plates down in front of the two officers.
“Hagimura-san isn’t coming?”
“He’s busy tonight,” Kashiwabara murmured. He pulled out a small piece of chocolate and began scraping it over his curry. “It’s just Nakanishi and Serizawa-kun tonight.”
Koichi turned to look at Naoto directly for the first time. Naoto tried not to gawk. It was absolutely uncanny how much this guy looked like Kumada’s son. Nakanishi nudged Naoto.
“Aren’t you going to order?”
Naoto stuttered, “A-ah. Right, sorry. Um. Hayashi rice, please.”
Koichi’s lips thinned and suddenly Naoto knew why he looked so familiar.
“Sorry,” said Koichi, “We’re out.”
------
Naoto sighed to himself. This was the third night since Kashiwabara and Nakanishi had forced him to join them for dinner that he’d returned to the site of the restaurant after closing to stand on the street and wonder if Koichi was working.
He shook his head, annoyed at himself, and sucked in a lung-full of smoke. What was he doing here? He’d never bring himself to go inside and the curry hadn’t been so good that he could justify coming back for it. He was only taking up time that he should have been spending on his case. They still couldn’t get anything useful from Kumada’s assailant and they weren’t going to be able to hold onto him much longer. Naruse Ryo was too good a lawyer for that.
Naoto turned to go.
“You’re not coming in?”
Naoto jerked back around, flushing guiltily. Koichi stood in the doorway of the darkened restaurant, looking down at him curiously and yet his face seemed somehow blank. Naoto was reminded strongly of Kumada Masayoshi once again.
“Sorry?” Naoto asked, feeling foolish for being caught like this.
“You’ve been standing down there three nights in a row now. Don’t you want to come in?”
Naoto attempted to smile. “You’re closed, so...”
“But you’ve been staying there anyway.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Naoto said, and hated that it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Koichi shrugged. “Are you coming in, or not?”
Naoto’s feet were stamping out the butt of his cigarette and carrying him up the steps before Naoto realized what they were doing. Koichi turned on the lights wordlessly and retreated behind the counter while Naoto took a seat - where Kashiwabara had sat not long ago. He looked around the cooking area aimlessly while Koichi looked down at his hands as he wiped down the stove.
Neither spoke.
“Beer?” Koichi suddenly asked.
Naoto jumped. “Eh?”
“Do you want a beer?” the young man repeated dutifully.
“Oh. Uh. S-sure.”
Koichi went back to the refrigerator and removed a bottle, popping the cap and leaving it on the counter in front of Naoto. He’d had to lean over to set it down neatly and, in spite of himself, Naoto’s eyes traced the line of his neck and shoulder. Koichi moved away again and Naoto took a long sip.
“... Thanks.”
Koichi shrugged, which Naoto assumed was his version of ‘you’re welcome’. The young police officer shifted. Having Koichi serve and stare at him was more intimidating than having the two of them sitting in silence and not looking at each other. Naoto took a small gulp this time.
“Why do you keep coming back?”
Naoto blinked and looked down, contemplating his fingers wrapped around the bottle. “Hayashi rice.”
Koichi rolled his eyes and let his head fall forward. “Please no. One Togami is all I need...” he muttered plaintively.
“Not to get it,” Naoto said quickly. He didn’t know what Togami Koichi was talking about, but he didn’t want to be lumped into such a category that warranted that voice. “I just... I haven’t gotten your face out of my mind.”
“My face?” Koichi blinked and his eyes crossed as though trying to see himself.
Naoto blushed and took another small gulp of beer. “When I asked for the hayashi rice, your face went all sad and sort of pitiful and I felt really bad and I thought maybe I’d hurt your feelings or something and I wanted to get that face out of my mind...”
Though Naoto knew his cheeks were flaming red, Koichi just continued to look at him steadily. The young police officer finished his beer quickly. He started to reach for his wallet.
“Sorry, but, this is my face,” Koichi said.
Naoto swallowed and left quickly.
------
He managed to stay away for two nights. Koichi was waiting for him on the porch of George Clooney when Naoto arrived after closing. The slight boy’s eyes were steady, if not warm, as they regarded him.
Naoto scuffed his foot against the pavement. “Still out of Hayashi rice?”
Koichi smiled thinly. “I might trade you for a smoke.”
The police officer jumped, his hand going to his shirt pocket. “I didn’t...”
“You didn’t ask. The roof has a nice view.”
It was such a non sequitur that Naoto almost didn’t realize Koichi wasn’t talking about smoking anymore. He still walked up the porch steps and followed the young chef through the dark restaurant and up some stairs - Koichi really wasn’t going to have them stay, apparently - in silence.
A blanket had been laid out on the roof, too far in the middle of it to really see the view of the city offered. This didn’t bother Koichi in the least - he laid down on the blanket and looked up at the night sky. After a second Naoto realized he was meant to join Koichi, and slowly did so. As they spent much of their time, they lay in silence, looking up at the stars. Naoto lost track of the minutes quickly.
Then Koichi’s voice washed over him, soft and tired. “My parents used to run a restaurant in Yokosuka. My father was the chef. He made the best hayashi rice - it was a recipe passed down from 100 years. I was going to take over when I got old enough.”
“What happened?”
“They were killed. He and my mother. They were killed while Shiizuna and Taisuke and I watched the Leonid meteor shower.”
Naoto’s heart clenched.
“I still went to school to become a chef. But all I could get was this place.”
Naoto frowned a little. “They never - ?”
“No. And the statute of limitations is up in a few months,” Koichi said softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not on the case.”
Naoto was silent, thinking about the case he was on. The case that seemed insolvable - how did you track a tarot card in an unmarked red envelope? He turned his head to study Koichi and found that the other boy was already staring at him. His eyes glittered in the faint light, peering out darkly from under his messy fall of black hair.
Naoto didn’t know what possessed him. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The angle was awkward and there was next to no pressure behind it because they were laying too far away from each other. Nonetheless Koichi’s tongue came out and moved softly over Naoto’s bottom lip. The young police officer felt like his whole chest suddenly collapsed in on itself - he couldn’t help but think that Koichi could taste the truth on his lips.
Naoto pulled away with a jerk and sat up, staring at nothing, pulling his knees close to his chest.
Koichi sat up slowly - his face appeared at the edge of Naoto’s peripheral vision. “You’ve killed someone.”
The police officer froze. He couldn’t move. Red envelopes danced before his eyes. His heart raced.
“H-how did you know that?” he stuttered.
“You just told me,” Koichi said quietly. “You pulled away from the victim’s survivor because you felt guilty.”
Naoto tried to catch his breath, but it wouldn’t come. Surely this man wasn’t the sort... he’d had nothing to do with that poor Manaka kid... Koichi’s hand closed around his wrist. His touch was gentle.
“Serizawa-san?”
All at once Naoto’s breath came back and his heart slowed. He looked at Koichi slowly - the other man looked back with understanding eyes.
“For what it’s worth, you’re not that person.”
This time it was Koichi who left, standing and walking from the roof without looking back. Naoto watched him leave. Then he laid back on the blanket and looked back at the sky.